Soul Reforged
by Baelparagon
Summary: Sometimes that which we fear is that which we see in ourselves, be it what we've become or what we could have been. But as Stacy will know sometimes you have to face what's ugly, in order to take yourself back. Response to Lord Yellowtails Iron Chef Challenge


_**This story is a one-shot done in response to Lord Yellowtails Iron Chef Challenge Mirror-House, in which a character meets an AU version of themselves. This story doesn't exactly fit the bill, but I loved it so much I had to post it. So read the story, let me know what you think and enjoy.**_

* * *

**Mutiny**

Most of the girls in Lawndale High battled with each other for a place in the popularity hierarchy of the school. The different cliques fought tooth and nail for the positions they held and even the areas of the school in which they could hang out in. Even Jodie made sure to apply make up every day to help hold the position of supposedly smartest and most involved member of the school, something no one else wanted. All upon the chance that someone might just might take a swing at her position. The only ones not pulled into the web were those like Daria and Jane, who held themselves out of the web and only played the game when conscience or advantage reared its head. Still even they got pulled into these little power struggles every now and then, usually due to some interference from Quinn. And speaking of the fashion demon...

At the top of this hierarchy the fashion club reigned supreme as a group, with only the cheerleaders as a form of competition. Still if it ever came down to backstabbing or reputation smashing the fashion club would win hands down. Between Quinn's insight and Sandi's ruthlessness they would ensure the destruction of any who opposed them, Daria excluded.

And unlike the other groups you couldn't cause them to turn on each other. Quinn and Sandi as much as they fought wouldn't allow outsiders to interfere, and Tiffany was too dumb to consider betrayal. As for Stacy she wasn't even considered, Stacy was a pawn and one that everyone knew was expendable. There were even dark nights where she couldn't deny it, knowing that one day she would be tossed aside like those before her. She knew because she saw the hungry gleams of the other girls around her, each one just waiting to take her place.

Stacy entered her house as she almost always did, late at night and tired to the bone. Being the secretary of the fashion club left her with a lot of responsibilities and very little in terms of help. Quinn and Sandi may have always come up with fashion club activities, but they spent so much time bickering they hardly ever spent the time planning it, leaving it to her to pick up the slack. As for Tiffany…well she tended to spend the whole time looking into a mirror throwing in the occasional idiotic comment.

With a tired sigh Stacy dropped her backpack on her couch and shuffled into the kitchen. She spotted a green sticky note on the front of the fridge, but she didn't bother to read it. She just knew it meant another night being by herself while her parents drank and partied away whatever money they could have saved so she could go to school. Opening the fridge she opened up a container of old lasagna, not bothering to heat it up as she went back to the living room.

She ate the cold pasta in silence, not even turning on the TV to watch the fashion channel. Stacy was simply too tired to even care about it anymore, and if she had the energy to think about it, she had been feeling this way for some time. She left the plate half-finished on the table and went upstairs to her room, collapsing on the bed. She half pulled the blanket up to her chin, ready to embrace unconsciousness once again.

_Stupid Sandi._ The girl thought as she lay on her back. _Why does she always pick on me? All I did was comment on how cute those earrings were, why would she say they looked tacky? I __**hate**__ her so much!_ Stacy felt her eyes begin to close even as tears flowed down her cheeks.

_I wish my life could be different._

* * *

Stacy wasn't certain how long she was asleep, all she knew was that the moment she came to something was different. She turned onto her side and rose up, twisting a small kink out of her back. Opening her eyes she found that while she was still on her bed it had moved from her bedroom to the middle of an open field, the stars gleaming above her. _What in the hell? Where am I?_

A cold wind blew across the bed, causing the girl to wrap the blanket around her tighter. The wind increased in its intensity, the wind becoming a roaring typhoon that drowned out her ability to hear and to see. She held her head under the sheets, waiting for the gale to be over. Finally after a few minutes the wind tapered off and finally, ceased.

"Hey, it's over now little mouse, come out of your hole." Stacy quivered under the sheets at the sudden voice, it was harsh and powerful, similar to a punk rockers. Not that she would ever admit to knowing that genre, but she had to admit the voice seemed familiar.. The voice spoke again, this time a little annoyed. "Kid I like you, but if you don't come out from under there we are going to have a problem. Now drop the blanket." Stacy did what she was told with an eep, followed by her quickly sitting back against the headrest.

At the end of the bed stood one of the most eccentric females she had ever seen. Going from bottom to top the girl had leather boots on, with fishnet stockings going up her legs. Past those knees was a frayed red plaid skirt, held by a dull grey chain around the girl's waist and connected to a sleeveless blue shirt with a purple anarchy symbol on the front. Her nails, like her lipstick and mascara was black, which clashed with the silver and black guitar strapped to her back. The black portions moved along the silver body like flames in the night. Her face was pierced with studs and hoops both on her upper lip as well as on her left eyebrow and ears. To finish it off the girls hair was died a mixture of red and purple and was done in a Mohawk.

What was the most amazing to Stacy was the fact that the girls face minus the studs and the hardened look was a mirror image of her own.

"Who-Who are you?" The punk smiled at the comment, crossing her arms and leaning to the side. "Aint it obvious sunshine, I'm you." Stacy looked incredulously at her, forgetting her nervousness. "No offense, b-but I wouldn't be caught dead wearing th-those clothes."

Punk Stacy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Of course you would dipstick, if you had a spine of your own. Allow me to rephrase my last comment, I'm your desire and ambition rolled up in one kick-ass package. To quote Tyler Durden I dress like you want to dress, I *#& like you want to *#& and I live free in the ways you wish you could."

"You can't be me." Stacy said sitting up. "This is just a bad dream, a combination of stress and bad pasta." The punk girl laughed at this her head leaning back and Mohawk swaying in the wind. "A joke from you, that in itself is funny. But I'm afraid this is no dream, at least not the usual kind despite your attempts to deny it. And me."

"Deny you? How could I deny you, you don't even **exist**." Stacy said with emphasis, trying to steady her nerves. This however had the opposite effect as the punk looked back at her, the smile wiped from her face.

"Maybe I don't exist in a physical sense, but I am as real as you or any other part of you. And I'm here to help you." Punk Stacy said as she uncrossed her arms and swung her guitar around, and began playing a surprisingly soft but eerie melody on it. "What exactly…are you here to help me with?"

"Simple, I'm here to make you into the person you were meant to be, as opposed to what you are now. A scared little kitten ready to jump at its own shadow." The punk said as she played the melody, it's haunting tune seeming to flow over the field. "But I am who I am. I'm…I'm Stacy Rowe, secretary of the fashion club and one of the most popular girls in school. I'm…I'm at the top."

"And yet where has that gotten you?" The punk said looking up, fingers still plucking the strings. "For someone at the top you get treated worse than those at the bottom. You subject yourself to Quinn and Sandi's little power struggles, and rarely if ever come out unscathed. Not to mention the fact you get to date the leftovers or rejects of the other girls, strange considering your, uh _preference."_ The punk said this last part with a wry grin, causing Stacy's cheeks to turn red.

"Maybe some of that's true, but I don't just have the club. Quinn and Sandi and Tiffany are my friends." The punk began laughing, even as her fingers played there tune flawlessly.

"Your _**friends**_ hardly if ever take the time to consider your feelings on anything, and if you were to fall into trouble how many of them could you rely on? Would **any **of them put their own desires before your needs? Or accept you if they knew just how attracted you were to the VP?"

Stacy wanted to argue with the girl, to scream her denials at her. But she couldn't, as much as she hated herself for it she just…couldn't. "Your right." Stacy said in a quiet voice, one that seemed to cut through the tune despite how quiet she spoke it. "They wouldn't hesitate to do it. Quinn might feel bad about it but in the end she'd get rid of me like cheap date. I'm…I'm nothing to them, I don't matter."

The song stopped, the punk sighing before holding the guitar next to normal Stacy, holding it up to shine under the moonlight. "Do you remember who gave this to us? And why?" Stacy looked at the guitar, confusion etched in her face, before she saw the name printed on the side. "Uncle Rowe, he gave that to me at my 12th birthday, I told him I wanted to be a rocker like him and he told me-"

"You can be anything you want darling." The punk said letting the guitar fall out of her hand. In a panic Stacy leapt forward and grabbed the guitar before it could hit the dirt. Clutching it to her chest she looked at Punk Stacy with a mixture of anger and hurt.

"That day a spark was made in you Stacy, one potentially brighter and stronger than anything you were capable of before. And for a while you nurtured it, it's amazing to think in just a few years you could play almost as good as your uncle. You were becoming something unique, and then you met Sandi and…well I don't think I have to tell you more do I." Stacy nodded, head still down as she cradled the guitar to her chest. The punk decided to continue, since the regular wasn't talking.

"Well over a couple of month period the guitar got put in the attic, you got broken into a subservient little puppy and I, heh, I got pushed out of the picture. But I'm back now, and I want what's mine." Stacy finally looked up, tears running down her cheeks and mixing with the mascara. "And wh-wh-what's that?"

The punk sat down on the edge of the bed, sliding herself towards the skilled girl. "To be a part of you again, to see the world through our eyes as opposed to your nightmares and fears. I want to play music again, wear black lipstick, eat junk food that'll put a little meat on our bones, and maybe even study a little if I have time. I want _**to exist.**_" Stacy hadn't realized how close the punk had gotten until she was a foot away.

"And what about me?" Stacy asked quietly, breath catching in her throat. "Will I fade away…disappear while you take over? Will I have to be the one trapped in order for you to be free?" The punk actually looked hurt by that, her hand rising up to Stacy's shoulder. The girl braced herself for a strike, only to open her eyes in surprise as she was pulled into a hug.

"Of course not Sandy, you're not going to disappear, why would I ever seek to harm you? You are me and I am you, we exist together in order to function. You'll still be the sweet, kind loving girl that I care for and others will. I just want to give you back your confidence, your ambition and dreams that will make you happy. With me we- I'll simply get to live the life we always wanted, as well as get the girl we deserve."

"Quinn perhaps?" Stacy said with a half grin, feeling _something _changing in her. The punk laughed at this, soon Stacy joining in. "No I doubt that, she loves the power her looks give her to ever truly commit to one person, and some girls just can't be swayed from a chosen path. Now her sister on the other hand might be fun to convert. Or at least she and the other would be nice to eat pizza with."

Stacy almost made a face at this, nut stopped in retrospect. She was going to leave behind some of the things she had loved in the past; maybe it would be good to explore the other side of life, in more ways than one.

Maybe…

"So what happens now?" Stacy said as she laid down on the bed, the punk lying down with her. The Punk Stacy rubbed her chin in contemplation before resting her forehead against the girls, brown eyes separated by inches.

"I don't know, let's find out." There was a flash of light, and the last thing Stacy remembered was a pair of brown eyes, so confident and beautiful.

* * *

Stacy awoke with a start, sitting up from her bed in a cold sweat. She breathed in deeply and looked around expecting to see the field; instead she found her room as it always was, pink and filled with cute things. Once she got her breathing under control she leaned her back against the headrest, relief and disappointment flooding her body.

_A dream, it was all just a dream_. She was about to lay down when a different voice spoke in her head, similar to hers but a bit harsher. _**Check your hand dipstick**_.

Stacy looked into her hand and saw it connected to something silver with strings. Throwing her blanket off she found it connected to the guitar she had been given as a kid. Expecting it to be dusty she was surprised at how glossy and well maintained it was. _How is this even…?_

_**Life works funny Stacy, don't question it just roll with it.**_ Stacy smiled at the voice, knowing it was something she'd have to get used to, at least in the future. Hesitantly Stacy placed the guitar in her lap, something she hadn't done in nearly two years and, with a shaky hand plucked one string.

The sound was more beautiful than she could ever hope to remember. Stacy looked over and, seeing it was still four hours before she had to wake up laid back and held the guitar to her chest, reunited with more than just an instrument. But for now she was still tired and had a club to quit and a pair of cynics to see. Maybe there'd even be enough time to head down to Dega Street to get her ears pierced.

She was whole again after all, and she had her life to live.

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_**Whoo that was fun, I may incorporate this scene into my Daria's world story but for now it'll stand as a one-shot. Hope you all enjoyed this and I'll see you at the next update. Have a good week.**_


End file.
